the Bond
by Constanzia
Summary: Sansa has never expected anyone to take care of her like he did and still the Hound was there for her,not wanting anything in return, even the feeling she wanted to offer him, the feeling with which appearance she seemed to be shocked the most.
1. Chapter 1

She sits in her chamber, her body exhausted and numb. She doesn't occupy herself with anything. Reading about heroic knights seems silly now as she has seen how cruel the knights can really be. Needlework doesn't calm her nerves as it used to. Singing disgusts her as she has to sing to Joffrey from time to time. So she waits for the darkness to come, motionless and silent.

It finally gets darker. She awaits the nights in King's Landing with impatience and cherishes the dark and empty chambers and corridors. These are the only moments when the castle is fairly empty and it feels almost deserted. The court is sound asleep when she leaves her cage to explore the halls. She has done this for weeks now, since the king had stopped to care if she's dead or alive and dismissed the guards from her chamber door.

She isn't able to sleep calmly. She either is too sore to fall asleep or the nightmares are too vivid. She wanders around the castle freely. She has learned by now where the guards are at their night shifts so she goes round their posts unnoticed. Every time she is far away enough to breathe freely she smiles thinking that Arya would be proud of her. Her little sister was always better at sneaking but now they would finally have something in common, something to discuss and a possibility to exchange experiences.

Wondering about her little Arya she stops paying attention to where her footsteps are taking her. She comes to her senses just in time. Heavy footsteps are louder and louder. She looks around quickly but she doesn't know this place. She has never been to this corridor. And she has nowhere to hide. If the guards find her here they will surely report it to Joffrey. And this would mean the end of the little freedom she has.

She turns around and runs as quietly as she can towards the niche in the wall she noticed when passing by. She jumps in just in time to hide herself from the eyes of the guards entering the corridor. The niche appears to be a small staircase so she decides to climb higher. After a few seconds she stops to listen carefully but the guards have already passed by her hideout. Their footsteps fade away but she's not willing to go down. Not just yet.

She starts to go up the spiral stony stairs but as her climb continues she gets more impatient to find any kind of doors or landing at all. When she finally is ready to turn around and go back, she feels a light breeze on her face. A few more steps further she finds not a simple landing with a window but a small terrace.

She carefully steps forward. The balcony is not very big. In the centre, there is a small table and a few chairs. The walls are entangled by thick green creepers, flowers blooming all over the place, their scent fresh and sweet. But these are not the flowers that take her breath away. It's the view that spreads in front of her, the view of the city shrouded in the night, sparkling with the lights of torches in the streets and candles in the windows. She is high above the houses, far away from the people who hate her so much.

The beauty of this place overwhelms her. She knows she has just found her new favourite place in the castle. If only it was free to claim it hers.

She doesn't know how long she has been standing there but it was long enough to stop paying attention to the dangers. A silent shuffle breaks the silence. She turns around terrified. She feels how her muscles tens and breath gets stuck in her throat.

At first she doesn't see anyone but rather feels there's someone here. She takes one step forward and she finally notices a big, dark shadow. He leans against the wall, motionless, his eyes directly on her face, hands crossed on his chest. Judging by his comfortable position he's been there for a while, observing her.

When he notices the horror in her eyes he steps forward into the moonlight which enlightens his monstrous face. Eyes grim as always, scars twisting one side of his face. The moment he comes out of the shadow she recognises him.

"_Wandering again Little Bird?"_ he asks as he takes the step.

He can see her muscles relax at the sound of his voice, her breath getting even. It surprises him, confuses him.

"_I cannot sleep_" she says calmly. She doesn't know why but the feeling of fright leaves her weary body when she realizes it was him who found her.

It happened before, once, a fortnight ago or earlier. She was prowling around the castle when she took the wrong turn in the corridors. At that time she didn't know yet where the guards are at nights. She was consumed with her thoughts when she came out of the turn and walked right into them. Two of them were talking, their backs to Sansa but one of them was looking straight at her, facing the entrance of the corridor.

She knew he saw her, he looked her straight in the eyes and without a word he let her leave. She remembers she ran to her chamber as quickly and quietly as she could, afraid of the punishment she would surely get. But it never came. Sandor Clegane never reported on her, never mentioned a word to the king about her night strolls.

"_If you keep being so clumsy the whole castle won't be able to sleep_" he grunts through his teeth.

"_Forgive me, my lord. I had no intention to disturb you_".

She feels ashamed. An hour ago she was so proud of how good she got in sneaking around the castle. And now it appears she's not even near being good at it. The Hound has heard her. She wonders for how long he has been aware of her presence in the tower.

His eyes get filled with anger. Disturb him? Is she out of her mind? It's not about him being disturbed or not. It's about her safety. Does she have a death wish sneaking every other night or so from her chamber? He doesn't understand why she keeps doing that. He saw her once and let her go without a word. He was hoping she would never do this again, that she would be too scared to leave her cage at night again. But yet here they are. He has caught her again.

"_Come girl, I'll take you to your chamber_" he says when he manages to control his rage, though it still can be heard in his words.

She takes one last look at the terrace and follows him down the stairs. When they reach the bottom he leads her through some dark corridors she has never explored before. She realizes that he has taken a road where there are no guards. Surely, he can walk freely around the castle but how would he explain her company?

A faint, thankful smile plays on her lips for a second. But he doesn't see it paving their way through the night in front of her. He doesn't turn to look at her, she probably is loud enough, so he is certain she walks behind him. When they reach her room he moves away to let her pass.

"_Thank you, ser_" she says silently. She knows his response to these words. They have exchanged them so many times by now that even though it's dark she is sure of his reaction, of his grimace.

"_I am no ser_" he snarls as always. There is impatience and anger in these words. This time, however, she can hear something new in his voice. Weariness maybe?

Without any other word he leaves her side and vanishes into the night. Sansa enters her chamber then and gladly lays down on her bed. She hopes her mind is too tired to present her with a nightmare.


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa hasn't had nightmares for almost a week now. The calm nights are a surprise to her but she is more interested in their cause. Is it because Joffrey has lost his interest in her or is it because of something else? Someone else to be specific.

She can almost call this week a good one but she isn't naïve, not like she used to be. She knows well enough that Joffrey's seeming boredom with her is only a phase which won't last forever. She already knows his cruelty has no limits. She only hasn't figured out if his imagination doesn't have boundaries as well.

She wakes up early today, before the servant girl comes to bring her food and help her with clothing. Sansa stays in bed for a few minutes and allows herself to dream about home, about the pleasant things – cold winds in Winterfell, the Godswoods, her family. However soon the reality comes in and she remembers that her father is dead, one of her older brothers is at war, the second is at the Wall, her sister is missing and Gods only know what is happening to mother and her little brothers.

Tears blind her vision and as she shuts her eyes close, they start to stream down her face. She realizes that for many weeks she has been crying from distress and physical pain. Now she is crying because of her sorrow and infirmity. So much has changed, so many bad things have happened. How could they all be so blind? How could Starks possibly get so deluded and deceived by Lannisters, by all of them?

But she knows why. It is because they are too honourable and loyal to play the game of thrones. Their hearts are pure and that's both their biggest strength and weakness.

She finally gets up and starts to comb her long auburn hair. She focuses her thoughts on the brush until the servant comes in with a platter full of food and fresh water. Sansa watches her as she makes the bed and struggles with the curtains. The girl waits politely for her to finish her breakfast and as soon as Sansa gets up from the table she is ready to help with the dress.

"_Which one would you like to wear today, m'lady?"_ asks the servant politely.

Sansa doesn't really have a ready answer for that question. She remembers how she used to pay so much attention to her look, to the things she was going to wear, to the jewellery she was going to match with her dresses. Now this feels foolish and inappropriate. She almost gets ashamed of how stupid little thing she was, or still is.

Without any longer hesitation she picks the dark green dress. She doesn't have any preferences, it was just the first dress she actually noticed in the chest full of other clothes.

The servant finishes tying the laces of the dress when a loud knocking on the door breaks the silence. The girl looks at Sansa questioningly.

"_Open the door_" says Sansa quietly to her.

She is not surprised to see ser Meryn. She is surprised by his words though.

"_The king would like you to meet him in the gardens_" he says coldly. His eyes are piercing her with dislike and contempt.

This is something new. And she doesn't like new. Usually Joffrey wants her to sit somewhere near him in the throne room or he enjoys the moments when she kneels in front of him and gets beaten severely. Either way there are always people around them, there is always a possibility for someone to stop this cruelty. Not like it happens, but she holds to the thought that there is a chance for her to avoid another kicks or blows.

The gardens are almost always empty. And that's what scares her. They are quite big for castle gardens and full of different kinds of trees and flowers she has never seen in the North. If she were to visit them alone she would enjoy them. Now, following ser Meryn, she feels an unpleasant twist in her stomach.

They enter the gardens in silence and walk deeper into the orchard. After a few seconds she can see Joffrey strolling slowly among the trees. The Hound follows him in a respectful distance. Of course he is there. He is one of the King's Watch.

She walks upon them as ser Meryn places himself next to the Hound.

"_Your grace_" she bows slowly remembering about all the necessary courtesies. Gods only know how much she'd like to see this caricature of a king begging for his life but her anger doesn't show. Never. Her face remains calm, almost blank.

"_I wanted you to accompany me in the gardens, to walk with me._" starts Joffrey and looks at her. "_But it seems like you haven't appreciated my kind offer._"

Sansa looks puzzled. What did she do wrong this time?

"_What can I do to please you, my king?"_ she asks knowing that she won't be able to avoid any punishment here.

"_I presume that my future queen should know what to do to please me without asking. Or haven't they taught you that in your savage North?" _

She remains quiet.

"_You should know by now that I hate dark colours, yet you show yourself in the most ugly dress I have ever seen_."

Sansa raises her eyes in surprise to look at Joffrey but he speaks observing the fruit on the trees. Is it really the dress? She knows it's only an excuse to see her in pain. Almost a week has passed since he ordered to push her down the stairs because she was walking too slowly leaving the throne chamber.

Her eyes go to the Hound. His expression, previously emotionless, now looks like he's getting ready to growl. The other knight already has a smirk on his face. They all know what's going to happen next.

"_Lord Meryn, you know what to do_."

She is ready for the blow but it doesn't mean it hurts any less. She bends in half and instinctively covers her stomach with hands. Another punch lands on her back pushing her down her knees and a groan escapes her mouth.

Joffrey's head snaps towards her.

"_What is it? I didn't hear you_" he says impatiently.

"_Forgive me, I'm… I'm sorry my lord_" she cries quietly trying to catch her breath. She can see him smiling and nodding but not at her but at the knight.

Heavy kick lands on her hip, the pain almost unbearable. She cries again falling to the ground.

"_Tear it off. I can't stand her in this rags"_

She can feel cruel hands lifting her to her knees again. They catch the cloth and tear it apart. Soon her arms are bare, the dress or what's left of it falls and she catches it when it exposes her corset.

Maybe it's good there are only four of them in the gardens. The humiliation would be so much greater if this happened in front of the whole court. She can't force herself to look up.

"_Dog, drag her to her chamber. I have no wish to see her any more today."_ She can hear his voice, already bored. She was an attraction as long as he could humiliate her, hurt her. But now that it's done she can leave to her room.

Sandor approaches her quickly, afraid that if he takes too much time the cruel boy will change his mind. He hates to see her like this, in pain, crying. He gently pulls her dress up to cover her body and placing one hand under her knees and the other one on her back, he lifts her without any effort.

He leaves the gardens not looking back and directs his steps towards her chamber. He already knows the way too well. He can feel her body tremble and dwindle in his arms. She rests her head on his chest and he catches himself wishing he wasn't wearing any armour now. It gets him even more angry than before but now he is angry with himself. Wrath is all he can feel when they reach her door. He opens it with one kick and places her gently on the bed.

She looks at him then, her face in pain but eyes thankful. She still holds her dress with one hand on her chest but as he moves to leave she touches his hand with her free one.

He stops to look at her, surprised.

"_Thank you_" she says weakly. No courtesy, no ser, no lord. He leaves her room silent and angry. He lets this one feeling spread within his body. He wants to kill someone or get drunk or both. He wants to do anything at all that would let him forget the unfairness of the world and her touch. He can still feel his skin burning where her fingertips brushed him. He clenches this palm into fist and disappears into the shades of the corridors.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry for not updating the story! I'm too busy with my school projects to write something for you! But here is something small just to keep the story going. I'm working on a normal-length chapter right now so be patient.**

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Her chamber should give her comfort and peace. Instead, it is a cage that is more dangerous than she has ever expected it to be. Sansa literary feels like a bird now. But she is not a little bird that chirps what others want her to chirp. She is obedient. Or tries to be. But she has already learnt to think for her own.

She's not even the bird that would sing beautiful melodies and mesmerize people around her. Her voice lacks in the joy and expression it used to have. It's flat and sadness whirls around every song, every single note.

She can't even be a bird that charms with colourful feathers. She remembers the times when she was full of life, joy and expectations. Now her colours have vanished and faded. Instead of presenting herself like an exotic bird she feels gray and pitiful.

But she is a bird. He still calls her this way. At first it was just mocking but now words "_little bird_" sooth her nerves. And he probably was the first one to realize what kind of bird she has become.

A game bird.

That is why she hates the moments when the cage is being unlocked so she could fly and meet only horror and pain. She is expected to run just to be chased, only for the pleasure of captivating and hurting her again and again.

Now, however, a lot of time has passed since she was let out. Her injuries were too severe for her even to walk so she has spent some days inside. The pain was so strong that she couldn't stand up straight, let alone please the king by presenting herself with the rest of the court.

But during that time she has learnt to recognize footsteps of some inhabitants of the castle and the knocking on the door. Her servant for example walks hastily and somehow timidly. Lord Meryn has heavy footsteps, arrogant and loud like himself. The Hound's walk is oddly quiet for his mass but there is something angry about it, impatient, like frustration. Cersei walks like a queen, there is no question about that. Even her footsteps are noble and proud. She walks like she knows what she wants from the world and expects to receive it instantly.

Sansa learnt to recognize her footsteps when the queen visited her after what had happened in the gardens. Sansa wasn't expecting anyone to check upon her but Cersei came to see her and she came twice, shock or fright visible in her eyes. Sansa knew that every Stark in Lannisters' hands is a strong political argument in the upcoming war but she could honestly see the concern in Cersei's eyes, the same kind of care she caught a glimpse of when the queen had found about her moon's bleeding.

Her visits weren't long but they weren't unpleasant either. A strange feeling of comfort entered Sansa's heart when she realized that it's not only her that perceives Joffrey as a monster. Although the feeling was too weak to give her peace it made her a bit stronger, a little bit more tougher. It was like giving the little bird something to hold on to, something that would keep her alive when the next chase begins.


	4. Chapter 4

Night is still young when Sansa rolls up her nightdress to watch her skin in the trembling light of a candle. Her hip still hurts but its colour is changing. Like all her bruises, at first it was black and spilled underneath her skin like wine on a table. But now she can see the purple shade turning into the colour of bile. The maester has allowed her to walk slowly to exercise her muscles a bit. In his opinion, which has been announced to the court later today, she still has a few days of recovery ahead so Joffrey wouldn't call for her for some time.

She stands up from her bed carefully. She can feel every muscle in her back and leg. She is still weak but she can't stand her chamber any longer. She needs to get out, she needs to find a place where she can breathe fully and spend some time not thinking, just trying to enjoy a moment of peace. And she knows a perfect place for that.

She puts on her cloak on her nightdress and blows out the candle. She waits for a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She knows her journey will be painful if she has to run away from the guards. Her hip isn't ready for any sudden movement yet. And she knows that the Hound won't be able to help her this time. Every third night he keeps watch at the king's door. She wonders for a second how does she know that but struggles to remember. She just knows that he is occupied tonight. A little prick in her chest surprises her when she realises it's a feeling of regret of not having an opportunity to meet him. Sansa hasn't seen him ever since he carried her out of the gardens.

She opens her door carefully and listens but there is no one in the corridor. She walks out slowly, checking her present skills for moving. When she is sure that walking slowly, annoyingly slowly doesn't cause much pain she closes the door behind her and enters the shadows that dance in the corridors.

She reaches the right hall without any problems but when she enters the staircase leading to her terrace she hears loud footsteps. She forces herself to run up the stairs to avoid being noticed but the pain is too much for her. When she reaches the terrace her face is blushed with effort and twisted in pain. Her chest moves heavily up and down, one hand on the wall helping her to balance her body, the other one protectively covering her hip.

It's how he sees her. Vulnerable and stubborn at once. Hurting and persistent. He has heard her when she was climbing up hastily, obviously in too much pain to be quiet enough to stay unnoticed. First thing that appears in his mind is anger. She again acts foolishly to come up here and it wakes up fury inside his head.

"_Looking for some trouble little bird?"_ he grumbles not getting up from his chair.

She raises her eyes and struggles at first to notice him in the dark. There is no moon tonight that would light up the darkness. But his voice is enough. It's enough to make her feel comfortable and… safe. It's enough to surprise her and produce a spark of joy in her eyes. A spark so unexpected and uncontrolled that it hits Sandor with its purity and spontaneity.

He gets up and walks towards her. Another shocking thing for him is her hand that stretches out to meet his arm. She grips his tunic and allows him to lead her to the nearest chair. He can feel her slender body so close, so fragile. But she doesn't quiver when he embraces her waist, maybe too boldly but protectively nevertheless.

"_I thought you are on duty tonight, my lord_" she says weakly still trying to catch her breath.

Confusion that enters his mind is so dominant that he fails to scoff at the title he despites so much. Was she paying so much attention to him as to know when he has to look after the sleep of this pitiful creature who wears the crown? And if so, than what for?

"_King's orders_" he says briefly, too worried both by his thoughts and by the way she stumbles on her short path to the nearest chair.

They finally reach the one that stands beside the balustrade and she sits carefully. Only when she rests her head on the cold stones of banisters does she let go of his tunic. Sandor steps aside not sure what to do next. He watches her as long as her eyes are closed and her breath becomes even.

When she speaks he turns to face the view of the city.

"_Is this terrace your private place, ser?"_ her voice is steady now, no pain in it.

"_I have no private places in the castle._" he answers trying to ignore the title once again.

"_I thought, since I meet you every time I come here, that this might be your personal space_. "

Personal… he hasn't got many personal belongings let alone the right to call places his own. Yet somehow he sees her point, this place comforts him. Watching the city beneath the castle sooths his nerves and mind. Or it is simply a good place to get drunk and forget about the entire world. Either way he finds it calm and quiet, very different from the rest of the castle.

"_Why do you come here?"_ he asks, realising how harsh his voice sounds only when the words have already been spoken. He regrets it even more when he notices her flicker at the sound of his question.

"_I… I'm tired of my cage. I suffocate there. And here I can finally breath again."_

When he turns to face Sansa her eyes are already locked on him. He wants to smile at the thought of the times when she was too scared to look him straight in the eye. But now she is a different person. Little bird or not, she has the strength of wolves, there's no denial about that.

She wants to say something, keep the conversation going, enjoy the very few moments she has with him alone but she can't say a word. It's like he is hypnotizing her with his cold grey eyes. They don't reveal any emotions but she is sure something changes when they are alone. Something more human appears in his expression.

She suddenly wants to be closer to him. She can't even explain it to herself, she just feels this overpowering need in every inch of her body.

Not turning her eyes away from his, she stands up slowly and takes these few steps that separate them. Her walk is slow enough not to cause any pain. She reaches to his face, her movement shy but her hand steady. At first he is too shocked to react but when her delicate fingers touch his scars he grabs her wrist brutally and pulls her hand away from his face.

Pure anger is now visible in his eyes and sadness in hers. He still holds her firmly when she stretches her fingers to try to caress his face once more. She is unsuccessful however so she balls her hands into fists. Why is he so stubborn? What harm could she possibly do to him?

"_Always so hateful_" she hisses. Sadness is mixed with anger and disappointment in her voice. Her eyes sparkle with so many emotions that he looks breathless at the beauty she represents.

"_Don't touch the dog, little bird. It may bite_" he forces himself to chuckle bitterly not sure what has just happened.

He lets her go and turns around. He wants her to leave him. He wants to grab her closer and never let her go. Emotions within him are at war but no matter which side seems to take control there is always anger that conquers them all.

He has no idea for how long he has been standing like that but when he turns around she is gone. He rubs his scarred face trying to get rid of the memory of her touch, so unexpected and gentle. He knows he won't be able to forget it for a long time. Not that he really wants to.

He leaves the terrace and goes to his small chamber. His cold bed awaits him, darkness ready to endow him with the most beautiful dreams he has ever had.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This one is going to be short. I'm sorry. Too much stuff to do, too little time. I just needed to write it because I felt like the last chapter needs a little follow up from Sansa's perspective.**

**So.. enjoy!**

**Oh, and I promise that another one is going to be longer**

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Sansa enters her chamber fast and quietly. She wants to slam the door behind her to get rid of the emotions that swirl inside of her but remembers it's the middle of the night. She is angry. She has never been more angry before. Where does this come from? It's his wrath that is contagious. These are his emotions that are visible all over her face now.

She tears off her cloak and sits recklessly on her bed. A grimace of pain crushes her previous expression. She forgot about the sore hip. She looks at her shaking hands and wants to curse the stupid, stubborn dog he is.

She wants to curse herself for what she has done. She knew he would bite. She knew he would scoff at her. What she didn't know was how much she wanted to touch him after all. Why does he provoke such strong feelings? He used to scare her. She used to think about him as a monster. Not because of his looks, although his face can horrify people, but because of his manners and cruelty.

And now she longs to touch him again, she finds herself full of emotions so different and unexpected that it scares her. What happened to the old Sansa who dreamt of highborn knights? What about the songs about beautiful lords who fight for love and honour? Are they true knights? What does it even mean to be a true knight? She can't answer the question after all she has seen here.

But what about the Hound? What about Sandor?

"_Sandor_" she repeats his name quietly. Her whisper barely breaks the silence. It's like she is checking if the name fits her lips. To her surprise it sounds like it was meant for her voice to call him by his name all along.

This makes her wonder. Despite his looks and manners he represents something she misses. He is powerful and protective. He gives her advice and strength. She can see all of that although he tries very hard not to show it.

What else could she see if she looked closer? What else could he awaken in her if he had let himself show something more than fury?

With these disturbing thoughts she falls asleep but her mind is too tired to think about the effects of this night. Yet it is strong enough to produce visions which make her body relax and warm up her heart.


	6. Chapter 6

The maester leaves her room with trouble in his eyes. He prolonged the decision as long as he could but so much time has passed that he finally has to allow her to leave her room. Sansa feels sorry for him. He is a kind old man who is worried about her health. He gets to see all the harm that is pressed on her body like a seal on a letter and has not enough power to stop it. No one has.

Sansa gets up and lets her servant help her with a dress. This time she pays more attention to the colours although she doesn't expect to see Joffrey today. She picks the yellow one. It used to remind her about the daffodils in the North but now the colour looks like her old bruises. She doesn't have enough strength to look in the mirror so she faces the window as the girl laces the gown.

When she is ready to leave the chamber she smiles gently at her servant and then goes outside. She is tired of the walls that surround her. She feels like they are crushing her. Sansa isn't allowed to leave the castle but there are still the gardens. She is not afraid to enter them today because she knows from the maester that the king has gone hunting. She enters the enclosure full of flowers and sits on a bench that is hidden between thick and tall trees.

This moment feels so peaceful and quiet that she lets herself drift away and lose track of time. She dreams of home for a long while, then she dreams of her family. Today however her memories don't clench around her heart and throat with fear and uncertainty. Her mind produces only positive visions, the bad things are forgotten.

Time passes by slowly until she realises the late afternoon light surrounds her. She leaves the gardens and rushes to the castle. She is positive that there hasn't been anyone looking for her but she still doesn't want to show any sign of disobedience.

The moment she sets her foot in the courtyard a group of horsemen enters it as well. She recognizes every single one of them but only one causes a disgust so strong within her that she needs to take a few steps back from his figure.

"_Ah, my queen_." says the hated figure stopping his horse in front of her. "_I've been told you are feeling better now_."

"_Yes, my lord_" she replies with a curtsey. She keeps her head low not to look him in the eyes. She knows she won't be able to stand his slimy smile and she can hear it in his voice.

"_You will be soon able to sing for me. This pleases me_" with these words he rides away not waiting for her answer or courtesies. The King's Guard follows him to the stables, not one of them looking in her direction.

She goes to her room slowly, devoid of almost all of the energy she has gathered today. The servant is already waiting for her with the supper and Sansa keeps in mind to be kinder to the girl, more thankful for her work.

She finishes the meal within a few minutes not because she is hungry but because she simply knows she has to eat. She forces herself to gulp the last bite when the servant asks politely:

"_Would you like me to prepare you a bath, milady?"_

Sansa raises her eyes on her and remembers what she thought about the girl a few moments ago.

"_Yes, thank you_" she says with a faint smile on her lips.

The girl tries very hard to please her. It's not her fault that among so much sadness and pain there is hardly no one who could make her happy again. But the smile Sansa sends her is reflected in the servant's eyes. It's like a thread of understanding appears between them. It's like they both desperately need some affection and warmth from other human being.

When the bath is ready and the servant is halfway though with the laces of Sansa's dress they can hear loud knocking on the door. Though the sound is not impatient they feel alarmed. The hour is late and any visit at that time is disturbing if not suspicious.

"_Come in_" says Sansa as calmly as she can. She didn't expect Joffrey to send for her this late but who knows how his twisted mind works?

The door opens instantly and the massive figure of Sandor enters the room. She is surprised to see him but says nothing.

"_Leave us_" he says to the girl who hesitantly looks at her lady. Sansa nods calmly and sends her one short smile.

"_I won't be needing you today. Go to sleep_"

She doesn't know what the Hound wants from her but if it is something bad that the king has ordered him to do the girl doesn't have to look at it. It's going to be enough for her to see the results tomorrow morning.

However if these are not kings orders that led him to her chamber than why is he here?

"_The king wants to know how are you feeling_" he says looking at the servant who closes the door behind her.

This confuses her even more. Joffrey has seen her today. This conversation doesn't make any sense and she has enough courage to speak her mind.

"_I don't understand, my lord. I have talked to the king merely an hour ago_"

"_He_ _sent me to ask about your health. What do you wish me to tell him?"_ he talks through his clenched teeth.

Sansa wonders if he is nervous or irritated. Is talking to her so unbearable? Is her presence and behaviour the cause of his constant wrath? At least partially? Anger starts to burn in her heart, hands start to tremble and tears dim her vision.

"_Well, tell him what you want, tell him what you see."_

Annoyance in her voice makes him look at her. Her auburn hair already untied from the braids, hands struggling with the laces at the back of her gown. He can see she is angry. He feels she is angry with him. And she has every right to be. He himself can't explain his behaviour. Before he lets the fury consume him as it always does, he lets himself feel something different for a change. Remorse. He feels guilty for treating her so unfairly. She has never meant any harm to him.

During the night on the balcony he just wasn't prepared, didn't expect her to be so kind and bold in his presence. And he messed it all up. As he always does. He either scares her like when she wanted to thank him for saving her from the mad crowd or irritates her like the last time when she wanted to touch his face. She touched him though and the warmth streaming from this gentle little movement made him almost dizzy.

He takes a step towards her not sure what he wants to say. Not sure if he wants to speak at all. He reaches to her back, to the laces that cause her so much trouble and… chuckles at what she has done with the ribbons. Instead of releasing herself from the dress she has tangled it even more. With one movement he pulls the right ribbon quickly and unknots the gown. He doesn't even know why he does that. It is an instinct. But is it his eagerness to help her with the dress or is it his desire? Desire that starts to burn within him every time he thinks about Sansa.

She doesn't realise what he has done though and turns to face him, anger is her only reaction to the chuckle she has just heard.

"_What is so funny to you?"_ she snarls at him.

They are both surprised at how fiercely her voice sounds but only Sandor sees how passionate her expression is.

He remains speechless though and this annoys her even more. Not thinking about her actions and wanting to somehow release the tension accumulating in her mind and body, she raises her small fists and hits him in the chest.

He barely fells it because of his thick armour but he doesn't laugh at her poor attempt to harm him. He knows there is something more to that. He witnesses as something breaks inside of her, something that can either make her stronger or devastate the already shaky structure of her mind. He lets her hit him once again and again before he grabs her wrists.

Only then does she look up. Her hair messy, eyes full of tears and sudden realisation of what she has done. How unladylike, how disrespectful her behaviour is for both of them. How unwise and foolish she is. And who will punish her for this – the Hound or Joffrey?

He can see the emotions swirling in her eyes. He is afraid that her own thoughts will consume her so he grabs her arms, shakes her firmly and waits for reaction but there is none. His face openly shows concern now. He shakes her once again, his hold of her stronger this time and she finally gets back to her senses. The dress falls loosely from her arms revealing the ivory skin of her shoulders and collarbone. Her eyes clear now, although still frightened, lips slightly parted, chest moving up and down in quick shallow breaths.

Gods, he wants to kiss her. He has never seen any woman more beautiful than Sansa and he had never held her like this before – pressed to his chest, shocked but not scared of him. Trembling a little but it's good. It's better than the numbness that overtook her a while ago. It's the sign of the emotions that make her feel alive, not the ones that posses her and throw into deeper fear.

Sansa looks into the grey eyes in front of her. They are so different now, they finally show something and she understands that she has frightened him. Concern on his face is so visible that she wants to cheer him up, forgetting about her own miseries. She wants to crash into him, like his strong hold of her arms is suddenly not enough. She wants more of him.

For a moment no longer than a heartbeat she feels like Arya - passionate and bold. She finally understands how her little sister feels about the surrounding world. Did she – Sansa – have to suffer so much to finally awake the spirit of the wolves which was always hidden deep in her heart? Or is it Sandor who makes her feel this way?

The closeness of his body doesn't feel awkward. It surprisingly feels perfectly right. She relaxes her muscles not aware that they were so tensed and looks deeper into his eyes. But as she starts to actually enjoy this moment he steps away from her.

He forces himself to let go of her. He has no right to touch her. He has no right to even look at her and dream about those desirable images in his head. He wants to gently brush a lock of hair on her shoulder with his fingers as a goodbye but stops when his hand is only inches away from her skin. He clenches his hand into fist instead and rushes towards the door.

"_The king is expecting me to come back soon_" he mumbles almost inaudibly. He excuses himself and leaves the chamber not looking at her, not waiting for any response from her.


End file.
